camp look past the things that you've won || kits & naming

[betonyfrost]

It isn’t until after that Betonyfrost feels her loneliness. It isn’t overwhelming, it doesn’t drown out the golden horizon love that swells her heart against her ribs. She can’t make sense as to how such large emotions can live in the smallness of her— how they can exist at one another’s flanks without fighting with or impeding the other.

The full moon of her gut has waned and her kittens, (three noses, six ears, countless toes), lay in the crook of her belly. It doesn’t feel real. Betonyfrost has never felt so exhausted. She’s never wanted more than to stay awake. She knows love as a noise so deep it is felt rather than heard; she remembers a rumble in her throat that she had thought she had lost.

Betonyfrost had been worried about what to name them and, looking at them now, feels no less intimidated. Were they supposed to be this small? Was Betonyfrost supposed to talk to them?

"Hi," Such a small sound she croons, and yet it’s notably hoarse and quavering "I still don’t know what to name any of you. Surely you wouldn’t have any ideas?" The more she speaks the further her voice eases into a whisper.

One of the kits squirms, drawing her attention.

"You've hardly been dry and you think you need to be going somewhere?" She asks, gentle, "What's so important that you need to leave? Hmm? Where are you off to...?" And then at once the name is easy. Betonyfrost doesn't think of it so much as she discovers it, and it's with a softly curled mouth that she adds, "Jitterkit."

Down the line to the odd one out. None of the kits share a resemblance to Betonyfrost in color, but this one is strange even among his littermates — rich brown while the others more closely resemble Betonyfrost's father and brother, "Not one blue tabby, but something unexpected instead," Betonyfrost muses. She knows her plants well enough to see something familiar to the white of his chest; her mind thinks hemlock before self correcting to a kinder plant. Her kit is hardly a poison. "Yarrowkit."

That leaves the last kit. The only she-kit. Betonyfrost stares at her for a time, for a long time, knowing just what she wants to name her but not wanting to speak it out loud. It feels like it would be admitting to too much but it wasn't as if anyone else in ShadowClan would know. "You'll be Comfreykit," Did you know I was almost named Comfrey? She doesn't add — but thinks maybe Comfreykit knows.

Task complete, the exhaustion that had been wavering on the periphery of Betonyfrost's mind descends. She sighs and rests her head atop her folded paws, heart aching to the split halves of bittersweet.

//tagging:
@vulture
@Yarrowkit
@COMFREYKIT​

shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 19 moons | tags​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

She squirms as close to her mother as she will ever get again, a tiny shadowy scrap against a gently rounded blue flank. Comfreykit's first sensation is one of warmth, of a low voice crooning tenderness; the scent and then the taste of milk fill her, complete her. She does not know the emptiness that yawns achingly wide within Betonyfrost; she cannot know. Comfreykit is anointed for a memory her mother reaches for in the recesses of her mind.

Still, Comfreykit only worms closer, relishing in the soft existence enveloping her from all sides.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart’s bright green eyes land on each of the kits in turn and she cannot help the purr that rises from her throat upon seeing the three healthy kits squirming at the gray mollies belly and for a second she feels a twinge, deep in her heart. She comes from a large family, but she always somehow felt alone. Looking at they way Betonyfrost looks upon her kits, it reminds the monochrome she cat of the way her own mother looked at her, back when she was young and before tragedy had plagued her. Back when bad things only happened in stories.

Then Betonyfrost is naming the kits and a small smile slips onto her face. Surprisingly, they have something in common as herb names are something she would consider for her own children, if she ever had any. "Th-those are all g-great names" she says, her voice soft, barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the kits.
​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

Yarrowkit entered the world with a moment of silence, as if considering if he wanted to participate in the ritual of crying out in shock at the indignity of being brought into the world. After a few heartbeats, the decision seemed to have been made, and he performed his tiny newborn yowls with gusto, quieting only after realizing the warmth and sweetness of the body which had given him life. He wriggled forward, desperately needy from the very beginning, pressing himself against Betonyfrost's soft pelt as if he could not get close enough. Milk dribbled from his tiny maw as he drank, splashing onto the white locket on his chest as if to ensure its existence, as if his heart was being marked as milk-soft. Despite his appearance - large and chocolate-furred, breaking the pattern his siblings had set of sunset-infused, deep charcoal coats - he squirmed and mewled like most every newborn kit under the sun. Perhaps one day he would come to realize the comfort in being one of many, once he could walk and see and hear and ponder: but for now, he simply breathed, was bestowed with a name changed at the last moment in a flash of kindness. For now, Yarrowkit simply existed, and perhaps that was enough.​

 

[jitterbug]

Cold. Freedom. The first two sensations that the warm-pelted kitten would learn. A far stretch from the enclosed heat that they and their siblings had come from, but nonetheless welcoming. Their body has barely touched the ground before their body is moving, squirming around. At first, the little kitten’s paws bring them in the wrong direction, wiggling further away, bit by bit. Muffled noises reach through closed ears, offering to them a name that they won’t quite learn, not yet. Whether they know it or not, though, the newly-dubbed Jitterkit has been given a name; and, fortunately, it’s a name they’ll grow to suit perfectly.

It seems they have finally managed to orient themself; their paws slowly drag them closer and closer, wriggling towards their mother’s belly. The first born, and yet Jitter is the final one to come forth for milk, too busy exploring the world, independent and headstrong. A few seconds and they finally find the warmth that indicates a larger body than their own and latch on, taking the time to drink their fill.

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

"well done, betonyfrost. here... for when you've an appetite."

they place down a frog nearby– close enough for the molly to reach but not enough to be in the way if she so chose to simply sleep for a while. they couldn't imagine the exhaustion she feels... they don't want to. they had no interest in having kittens. having to raise minkpaw was hard enough, and having to look after an entire clan definitely took out the fun in wanting little mini-thems running around. besides... who wanted any more of chilledstar? chilledstar sure as fuck didn't. having to deal with themself was enough. they step back, however, looking at the little balls of slime and fluff, ears twitching. they had nothing more to add... not really.

"you need anything, I'm just a shout away... alright?"

or at least, they'd try to be. someone had to watch those kits... someone had to protect them from betony's insanity... stars help them all.
​

 

[betonyfrost]

It had been easy to forget Starlingheart was here. Betonyfrost doesn't startle, she's too tired for that, but her short ears twist Starlingheart's way. She hmms in a noncommittal agreement, a reflex more than conscious choice. Everything had gone well, perhaps in spite of the circumstances. When Betonyfrost's mind is less heavy and if she could remember, she should thank Starlingheart. For now Betonyfrost blinks gently at Starlingheart and hopes she understands.

By the time Chilledstar enters, Betonyfrost is already well on her way to losing her fight with sleep. Eyes closed, she could pretend that it isn't a complete lack in faith in her that drives Chilledstar to visit — that the lonely ache in her heart could ease, or that her family could be whole. She says something in response to Chilledstar, warm and mumbled into nonsense, and hopes that this too is big enough to be understood without the cradle of words to deliver meaning.

Then Betonyfrost is out, carried into an easy, even-breathed sleep.​

shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 19 moons | tags​